


The wandering god

by DatiyaTurquoise



Series: The old tales [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (but still), (not really) - Freeform, I brainrotting this at 3 in the morning please don't judge me, Insane Wilbur Soot, Thor but make it SBI and Dream SMP, Wilbur Soot-centric, god AU, no beta we die like Wilbur in DreamSMP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:28:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29712351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DatiyaTurquoise/pseuds/DatiyaTurquoise
Summary: Wilbur is a wandering god.
Series: The old tales [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2183613
Comments: 7
Kudos: 47





	The wandering god

Wilbur is a wandering god. 

He is known throughout lands, the closest god that ever came to humans, he sang them the old tales of the gods, the mythologies of the Arctic Empire _(it is more likely stories with him being the one that witnessed them all)._

He is the younger brother of the blood god and the son of death and life, the prince of the Arctic Empire and the god of melodies and mythologies.

Humans worship him, they passed his stories throughout generations. Everyone know him, the god of melodies and mythologies, they said, the one who has the most beautiful voice they have ever heard, the one who traveling around the world, easily recognized with the instrument called “guitar” strapped behind his back, sometimes they say it flood and playing the soft tunes while the god humming in the wood. 

It’s a magic song, they say. It was told that can be heard despite the time nor the weather, some say they heard when it was storming, it pushed the loud, scary thunder back, warmed up the one who was lucky enough to catched it. And somehow, their wildest wish was granted. 

But Wilbur doesn’t have a land that he belongs to, unlike other gods, he is widely known among humanity, but he owns no land. 

And he is happy about it. An old lady told them. 

She told them that they met ages ago, a young man appears in a long, dark coat, with closing eyes and a warm voice, he hums a familiar yet strange melody. She was lost in there for quite a time, how come a song could be that fascinating, she didn’t know. 

Until the melody stopped, the young man raised his head looking at her, warm hazel eyes melting her heart as she felt her cheek heated up.

“You aren’t from here.” She told him, unable to recognize him anywhere near this small village. 

“I’m just a wandering man.” He told her, a soft gaze brushed the strings on his weird instrument. 

She hesitated, but still gave it ago. 

“But isn't having a home better? To have a shelter that gave you warmth? To have a place you could go back.” 

The young man chuckles, unbothered by her curiosity and rudeness. The chuckle didn’t sound like anger, just, pure entertainment. 

“Home is a luxury thing for me, I would rather keep traveling like this.” 

She realized that was rude for her, so she turned away, mumbling a small apology as he waved it off.

“Here, let me tell you an old tale.” 

And he did. 

The song was alluring, she could not hold back her tears. The melody was beautiful and his voice, adding the thickness and gentle tone in the song. 

She sang the song for the others in the village that day. 

But little did she know, the same song has haunted her mind. 

She kept singing the same song, the same melody, the same tales, every single day. 

Until the day she died.

As for the ones who were lucky enough to hear the wooden songs, the same ones that were granted their wildest wishes after catching the melodies.

They committed suicide the following weeks.

But none of them blame Wilbur Soot, and the dark parts were never unfolded.

He was never the god of melodies and mythologies.

He was the god of twisted.

The god that slowly drains sanity, the god that passes out cursed melodies under the skin of soft and warm tones. 

The god that brings them curses, not blessings.

Never have been blessings.


End file.
